Death
After 72 years on the throne, Louis died of gangrene at Versailles on 1 September 1715, four days before his 77th birthday. Enduring much pain in his last days, he finally "yielded up his soul without any effort, like a candle going out" while reciting the psalm Domine, ad adjuvandum me festina (O Lord, make haste to help me). His body was laid to rest in Saint-Denis Basilica, outside Paris. There lay it peacefully for about 80 years at which time it was violently disturbed by Revolutionaries exhuming and destroying all the remains to be found in the Basilica.
By the time of his death, Louis had been predeceased by most of his immediate legitimate family. His last surviving son, the Dauphin, died in 1711. Barely a year later, Burgundy, the eldest of the Dauphin's three sons and then heir to Louis, followed his father. Burgundy's elder son, Louis, Duke of Brittany, joined them a few weeks' later. Thus, on his deathbed, Louis's heir was his five-year-old great-grandson, Louis, Duke of Anjou, Burgundy's youngest son.
Louis foresaw a minority and sought to restrict the power of his nephew, Philippe d'Orléans, who as closest surviving legitimate relative in France would become the prospective Louis XV's regent. Accordingly, he created a regency council as Louis XIII did in anticipation of his own minority with some power vested in his illegitimate son, Louis Auguste de Bourbon, duc du Maine.
Orléans, however, had Louis's will annulled by the Parlement de Paris after his death and made himself sole regent. He stripped Maine and his brother, Louis-Alexandre de Bourbon, comte de Toulouse, of the rank of "prince of the blood," which Louis had given them, and significantly reduced Maine's power and privileges.
Read more about this topic: Louis XIV Of France
Famous quotes containing the word death:
“The sole work and deed of universal freedom is therefore death, a death too which has no inner significance or filling, for what is negated is the empty point of the absolutely free self. It is thus the coldest and meanest of all deaths, with no more significance than cutting off a head of cabbage or swallowing a mouthful of water.”
—Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (17701831)
“Cry woe, destruction, ruin, and decay:
The worst is death, and death will have his day.”
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By atoms moved.
Could you believe that this the body was
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And in his mistress flame playing like a fly,
Turned to cinders by her eye?
Yes, and in death as life unblest,
To havet expressed,
Even ashes of lovers find no rest.”
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